


Something New

by Ifrit



Series: Who's Your Plus One? [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, Blue Balls, Cheating, Divorce, F/F, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Incest, M/M, Multi, Nipple Play, Post-Divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 10:25:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17979554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifrit/pseuds/Ifrit
Summary: Dante gets what he wants.





	Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Day 183847378 of me banning heteros and ignoring Vergil's existence: 
> 
> Here's part two, after 1000000 years! Eternal thanks to mimo and Ray, whose birthday this fic is for. Hopefully I'll be able to write Kyrie/Nico fic for part three!!!!!
> 
> 𓂸
> 
> NOW WITH MIMO FANART (@nomnomdevilcest) !!!!!!!!! <https://twitter.com/nomnomdevilcest/status/1102190075859787777>

_Ding-dong._

No response.

Nero shifts his weight nervously from one foot to the other, hands buried in his pockets and shoulders bunched up around his ears like it’s ten degrees colder than it actually is outside.

It feels like prom night all over again.  Only this time, his date isn’t Kyrie - it’s his fucking _uncle._  Actually - Kyrie opened the door on the first ring.

_Ding-dong._

Again, no response.  Nero swears he can hear the soft sound of footsteps on the other side of the door, but it’s too soft for him to be certain - so he waits another few minutes before trying again.

_Ding-dong._

Alright.  This is getting fucking annoying.  Nero knows Dante is home - his car is in the driveway and the bedroom lights are on.

_Ding-dong.  Dingdongdingdongdingdongding--_

“What the _fuck-”_

Nero hears that enraged voice before he sees its owner as the door is _wrenched_ the fuck open, and god, isn’t that a sight for sore eyes.

“Nero?!”

Dante, dripping wet and half-naked with only a towel covering his lower body.  It’s enough to make Nero completely lose track of why he came here in the first place - wait, came, cum, Dante naked - _oh, right._

“...Hey.”

Nero and Dante regard each other silently for a few moments, unblinking.  Nero’s stare is unwavering, but Dante looks a bit uncomfortable, adjusting the position of his towel the longer the silence stretches on.  ‘

Dante’s the first to speak, ostensibly because the lack of conversation while he’s in a state of undress is starting to unsettle him.

“...You used to be more talkative,” Dante muttered, opening the door wider as a silent invitation for Nero to step inside.  “Sorry for the wait. I just got out of the shower.”

Nero almost rolled his eyes - leave it to Dante to state the obvious - but he just shook his head, slinking inside like an outdoor cat returning home.  He remains silent as he crosses the living room, slumping down into the seat cushion of his favorite spot on the sofa from when Dante and Nero were regularly hooking up.

It doesn’t escape Dante’s notice, and it certainly doesn’t instill a shred of confidence in his hope that this would just be a friendly visit.

Dante pads over to the kitchen and sets a kettle on the stove.  “Your usual is still the usual, right?” He calls out, hesitating before reaching into the cabinets and grabbing a container of coffee grounds.

All he gets from Nero is (what he assumes is) an affirmative grunt, and so Dante gets set to work on throwing together Nero’s drink of choice before they got down and dirty.  Only now, Dante hoped the visit would stop at coffee.

Still clad in only his towel, Dante brought the steaming cup back to the living room and set it down on the coffee table in front of Nero, the surface of which was littered with ring stains.  When he straightened back up, he noticed the way Nero’s eyes were glued to the trail of hair that disappeared underneath the towel but chose to ignore it - he decided on the day of the wedding that he wasn’t going to humor Nero anymore.  “Half-and-half, no sugar. Just the way you showed me to make it,” Dante chuckled through a strained smile, rigidly stepping back.

Nero finally looks up from Dante’s abdomen to give him a mumbled “thanks” in return for the drink, picking it up and nursing it to his chest with both hands.  Now that he was sufficiently distracted for the time being, Dante decided it was a good time to finally get some damn clothes on.

Nero’s still curled up in the same position when he comes back downstairs in sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee, outfit now complete with underwear - he never used to bother when he knew Nero was coming over, and the kid seemed to like when he went commando.  Easy access.

But that was then, and this is now.  Dante sits a respectful distance away from Nero on the same couch, supporting the weight of his head in one hand propped up on the arm of the sofa as he watched Nero through the falling strands of his hair.

“What’s eating at you, kid?”  Dante supposes Nero just needs a push to start the conversation - that is, if Nero intended to have one at all.

Nero puts his cup down before answering.  “I know it’s been a while.”

Dante waits for Nero to continue, but he’s met with more silence.  “That’s all you’re gonna give me? Yeah, it’s been a while. I expected you to at least visit once after you and Kyrie shacked up together.”  Not that he had much room to speak.

“Sorry,” Nero mumbles, but Dante can tell he means the apology by the way the tips of his ears turn the slightest shade of red.  The rest of his face is unreadable, since Nero has his face turned completely away. “I’ve been… busy.”

“I wasn’t even invited to the baby shower,” Dante laughs, and it’s supposed to be light-hearted, but some of the bitterness that Dante feels shines through his tone and the way his voice cracks just the slightest bit.

Nero turns his head as if to look back at Dante, but he stops just as he’s about to raise his gaze, still unable to meet Dante’s.  “I-I might have thrown your invitation away.”

Dante stares at Nero, mouth agape, though he can already guess the reason behind it.  “I wanted - I _still_ want to be happy for you, Nero, but you’re making it _really fucking hard_.  You can’t just cut me out of your life like that,” he sighs.  He’s not angry - he’s not even disappointed. All he feels is defeat.

Nero shakes his head slowly.  “I wasn’t trying to cut you out.  I just - I didn’t want…” he trails off, looking away again and pressing his body into the armrest on his side of the sofa like he’s trying to get as far away from Dante as he physically can without looking like he’s running away.  “I didn’t want you to see what a mess I turned into.”

That’s surprising.  Dante thought Nero looked more or less the same, maybe with a few extra bags under his eyes - but life had a way of doing that to everyone.  “What do you mean?” Dante asks simply, softly, raising a leg up on the sofa in an unconscious movement that signaled he was listening closely.

“Kyrie… me and her, we barely spend time together anymore.”

Weird.  Not what Dante would have guessed from the stories Lady and Trish kept telling him about their couple-relating outings.  

“After she had the - _our_ \- baby, she completely…detached.  I barely see her - we don’t even sleep in the same bed anymore.”

Dante felt for Nero.  He really did. But… “I’m sorry to hear that, but what does this have to do with me?”

Nero is still resolutely looking away when he responds.  He gives it a few seconds before visibly tensing, back erect.  “I want you to fuck me like you used to.”

Dante freezes.  He’s not sure he heard correctly.  “Nero, you - you what?”

“Fuck me,” Nero repeats, choosing that moment to finally turn and meet Dante’s gaze.  “What, did your dick break while I was gone?”

Though Dante would never admit this to Nero, he hadn’t had sex with anyone else since they’d mutually agreed to stop their ‘arrangement’, but even the sexual frustration wasn’t enough to get him to cave.  “No, no, I was just checking to make sure I heard right,” he sighs, getting up from the sofa.

He can see the shift in Nero’s hopeful demeanor when he walks to the front door instead of towards the stairs, expression only dropping further when Dante unlocks it and looks at him expectantly.

“Look,” he sighs, turning the doorknob, “I hate to have to be the mature one.  Just ask Lady, she’ll tell you how weird this is. But we can’t do this anymore.”

Nero doesn’t budge.  All he does is scoff and scowl at the wall behind Dante, crossing his arms like a petulant child.  “You never had a problem with fucking me when I was engaged. What changed?”

“I’d be happy to let you stay if all you needed was someone to talk to, maybe even a shoulder to cry on,” Dante smiles with only his mouth, opening the door wide and motioning for Nero to get the fuck out.  “If you need a dick in your ass, I’d be happy to scroll through grindr for you.”

Nero stands from the couch with his fists balled at his sides.

“What would convince you to let me stay?  I… I can’t go back home. Being with Kyrie is worse than being alone.”

Dante raises an eyebrow.  “You two are obviously close.  Telling her the truth might be a damn good place to start patching things back together.”

Nero spends a few more seconds standing there stock-still, staring at the ground as he parsed through his options.  When he realized none of them involved staying here, he begrudgingly trudged to the doorway, shooting Dante a look on his way out the door.

“Come back when things are sorted out,” Dante says softly, sincerely, holding the door open for a split second as Nero whirls back around on his heel in disbelief.  Just as Nero is about to respond, Dante slams the door right in his face - well, no, he just closes it normally, but he might as well have slammed it. It feels like a punch driven right through the center of Nero’s chest.

Nero stares at the door.  He wasn’t expecting this outcome - in fact, he was so sure Dante was going to cave that he just stood there for five silent minutes, feet rooted to the ground as he continued to entertain the pitiful hope that Dante would open the door again and let him back in.

When it’s clear Dante has no intention to do so, Nero trudges dejectedly down the stairs to his car.

He wastes a few more stagnant moments behind the wheel, thumping his forehead against the wheel as he assessed his options.

 _Tell the truth,_ Dante said.  With nothing much to lose, Nero came to the resigned realization that Dante’s suggestion was probably his best option.  Dante was right. He _was_ being the mature one, and it felt so _off_.

Nero reverses out of his spot and almost hits a car parked the row behind him, too in his head to fully pay attention.

Alright.  Telling the truth, Nero could do that.  He began muttering words under his breath, practicing the first sentences he’d say to Kyrie to drop the bomb.  However, as shameful as it was, Nero kept thinking - he’d cheated on Kyrie a year ago, why bring it up again? Kyrie didn’t need to know.  In fact, it wasn’t clear if Nero would ever have the chance to let her know with how little time she spent with him nowadays.

But then again, Dante would never sleep with him again if he didn’t.

Well.  That settled it.

“You… you what?”

Nero winced, immediately dropping his gaze to the floor so he could break eye contact with his soon-to-be ex-wife.  

“I don’t want to say it again, Kyrie.”  Nero knew her question was the type of “what?” that meant she’d heard what he had said, but couldn’t believe her ears.  He couldn’t blame her. If Nero were in her shoes, he’d react in exactly the same way.

Kyrie is silent for a bit, leaning back in her seat as she watches Nero through slightly-narrowed eyes.  An odd reaction to such a bombshell statement, to be sure.

“How long?”

“Since our first Christmas party at mom’s.”

Kyrie let out a soft gasp, which again seemed like a muted reaction given the circumstances.  If Kyrie didn’t know, shouldn’t she look more surprised?

Nero quickly followed his confession up with the question that had been gnawing at him since their engagement.  “Did you know, Kyrie?”

Kyrie simply looked away, fidgeting with the rapidly cooling mug of tea in her hands.  “I… I thought _something_ was up.  I just wasn’t exactly sure what.”

“You just don’t seem that surprised.”

Kyrie shrugged and looked away again, taking a long, _long_ sip of her tea to avoid having to respond.  It quickly became clear that Nero was waiting for an answer, so Kyrie finally set her mug down and sighed.  “It’d be… hypocritical for me to react like that.”

Nero balked, mouth hanging part-way open in confusion.  “Hypocritical?”

“I’ve been cheating on you too, Nero.”

Nero’s eyes begin to widen slowly, eyebrows climbing higher and higher as he fully processes the information.   _No way,_ he thought frantically, his mind a jumbled mess.

“With who!?”

Nero swears he sees a hint of a smile on Kyrie’s face before she schools her expression.  “...Nico. You really had no idea?”

Even now, Kyrie’s voice was immeasurably kind.  Nero felt like he was about to cry - her voice would have that kind of effect on anyone, honest.  “None.”

“Too busy chasing after Dante?”  Kyrie’s _laughing,_ joking with him like their relationship had never soured after the wedding.

Nero is still shocked, mostly because of Kyrie’s cheery demeanor.  She seems to notice and leans forward, putting a hand over his. “Nero, are you really that shocked?  We’d always worked better as friends.”

“But… you wanted to get married so badly.”  Nero’s head is swimming, though his confusion and panic are slowly giving way to heady relief.  He had no idea this meeting would be going this smoothly. He thought he’d have to run out of the house to avoid Kyrie’s wrath, but she was never like that.  It was a stupid thing to worry about.

Squeezing his hand, her wedding ring glinting in the sunlight streaming in from the windows, Kyrie smiles up at Nero with her eyes closed.  “Nero, we grew up in Fortuna. I wanted to be like everybody else. It just so happened to turn out that… fitting in wasn’t as fun as it seemed.”

Nero gets that, especially considering the fact that he was cheating on her with his _uncle._  Nero decides not to dwell on that, though.  He’d rather poke fun at Kyrie. “...So, the babysitter, huh?  I thought she was cute too when we had that interview with her before we hired her.”

Kyrie scoffed and punched Nero in the arm, making him double over in laughter (and thinly-veiled pain.  Kyrie had a _mean_ left cross).  “She’s taken, Nero.  No more cheating!”

They laughed raucously for a few moments; when their laughter died down, Nero diverted his gaze and began to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.  “Even though we’re both in the same spot, I really am sorry, Kyrie.”

“No you’re not,” she retorts, still smiling.  Nero just raises an eyebrow, questioning her in silence.  To clarify, she adds, “I know you love him. Just like I love Nico.”

“Woah, _love?”_  Nero shakes his head vigorously, as if trying to expel the mere thought of being in love with Dante from his head.  “No, I’m not in _that_ deep.  It just feels good when we’re together.”

Kyrie giggles behind a fist, leaning against Nero in an act of physical intimacy they hadn’t shared in months.  “Maybe, maybe not. I just know you don’t regret cheating on me with him. Just… Nero, don’t be afraid if you start to feel things for him.  Life’s too short to pretend like you’re not in love.”

Digesting Kyrie’s advice in silence, he starts to think - is he actually in love with Dante?  He doesn’t think he is, not at the moment, but he feels like he could have been, back when they saw each other almost every day.

Either way, though, it didn’t really matter.  Nero just wanted to have sex again, and Dante seemed like the likeliest candidate to fuck him.  Hopefully he’d come around when Nero tells him he told Kyrie everything.

“Oh, one last thing!” Kyrie exclaims.  “I’ll go ahead and get the divorce papers drafted.  Nico knows a good lawyer.”

“Wait, divorce papers?”

“You didn’t… you didn’t think we were going to stay married to each other, did you?”

Nero shrugs.  “I just thought, since we seemed kinda happy-”

“I am happy,” Kyrie nods, fervently nodding her head, “but eventually I want to marry Nico.  I’m sorry you can’t do the same thing with Dante, since _that_ would involve telling Trish and Lady about it.”

Nero balks - he’d _completely_ forgotten about his parents.  They’d _kill him_ for fucking his uncle.  “Kyrie! Please, no matter what, don’t tell them-”

“Nero, there’s no way I’d tell them.  I might’ve been raised a good girl, but I’m not a snitch.”  

Letting out an incredulous laugh, Nero rubs a hand over his weary face and doubles over.  Kyrie, giggling somewhere behind him, begins to rub his back comfortingly. “Really, calm down.  You’ve been subtle enough for over a year, haven’t you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I guess we have.”  Nero sits back up and looks at Kyrie, eyes watering the slightest bit.  “I wish we hadn’t drifted apart like we did,” he confesses, voice wavering.

Kyrie makes a few sympathetic noises, bringing Nero in for a hug.  “It was mutual, Nero. But we’re better now, right?” She chuckles softly, rubbing Nero’s back in a way that makes him want to fall asleep in her arms.  “We’re happier when we’re dating other people, I guess.”

“I’m not dating Dante,” Nero murmurs, closing his eyes as he rests his weight on Kyrie’s shoulder.

“You’re not?”

“We haven’t - we haven’t _done_ anything since the wedding.  We’d never actually been dating, just…”

“Just fucking, right?”  Kyrie chuckles again, loosely holding her intertwined hands at the small of Nero’s back.  “I think I remember knocking on the door of the bathroom in your parents’ house and hearing you two going at it during our graduation party.”

Nero flushes, heat bursting through his skin with embarrassment.  “Kyrie, there’s no way-”

“He kind of sounds like he’s dying when he cums, doesn’t he?”  When Nero pulls back sharply, his face the very image of offended shock, all he sees is Kyrie’s impish smile which somehow remains completely innocent despite her words.

Once the shock finally wears off, Nero rests his head against Kyrie’s shoulder and sighs.  “I guess you’re not staying here during all the legal stuff, are you?”

“I’m going to stay with Nico, yeah.  What about you? Will you be okay here all by yourself?”

“I… I think so.  I’ll try calling Dante, but I don’t know if he’ll pick up.”

Kyrie pats Nero on the head.  “Just keep trying. He’s worth it, at least to you, right?”

Nero pauses for a second before hesitantly nodding.  He supposed Dante was important enough to make the effort, so he hugged Kyrie again on her way out the door to Nico’s and pulled up Dante’s number, staring at it as if thinking hard enough would magically send the call through for him.

Once he decided that he’d fucked around long enough, Nero hit the call button, dread creeping steadily up his spine.  Each ring that passed without answer had his heart sinking lower. One unanswered ring became five, and after a few more rings, Nero hung up to avoid having to listen to Dante’s voicemail message.

Maybe he’d called at a bad time.  He’d give it a few minutes, getting some chores done around the house and trying to act like he didn’t desperately wish every buzz of his phone was Dante either calling or texting him back.

When an entire hour had passed, Nero resigned himself to the fact that he’d have to be the one to call Dante again. Hands feeling heavy as he pressed the call button, Nero was crushed but not surprised when there was no answer.  

How was Nero supposed to interpret this?  Did Dante not want him to call? No, if he really didn’t, he’d have blocked Nero’s number.  Was he busy? A more likely answer, but one that didn’t help tamp down Nero’s anxiety any.

Maybe he was waiting for Nero to tell him Kyrie knew.  Nearly dropping his phone in nervous excitement, Nero texted Dante with sweaty hands.

There.  Now everything was aired out, and Dante knew about it.  Really, Nero should have thought of just texting Dante sooner.

But three hours later, he still gets no response.

Puttering about the house when he basically lives alone now is excruciating - everything is too quiet and Nero can’t focus for shit.

He thinks distantly that he needs to tell his parents about the impending divorce, which they’re definitely not going to like.  He just hopes they don’t suspect anything. Really, how stupid did he have to be to fuck Dante in his _parents’ house?_

Nero’s thoughts go in circles like this for another two hours before his phone goes off.  He’s almost too scared to pick it up, and he props his head up in his hands as he stares down at it.

Eventually, he reasons that the blank screen won’t tell him anything, so he finally unlocks it and - it’s from Dante.

Nero tries to tamp down his enthusiasm, because... would he normally be this excited to get a text from a simple one-night (scratch that, Dante was more like a 100-night) stand? But he’s alone, and there’s no one else to judge him for how intently he stares at the text.

_“Sorry, I was busy.”_

That’s _it?_ Nero just barely restrains the sudden urge to throw his phone against the wall, his rage doused with cold water when he sees that Dante is typing again.  He really did have a problem, didn’t he. But fuck him if he admitted it.

_“That’s great.  What’re you gonna do now?”_

Nero stared and stared at the question, wondering why Dante was asking questions instead of announcing that he was on his way to Nero’s house.

 _“I was thinking I was gonna let you fuck me,”_ Nero responds.  Not the smoothest text he’d ever sent, but with Dante, it usually paid to be blunt.

Dante, to Nero’s anguish, doesn’t respond for another ten minutes.  When he does, it’s not exactly with something Nero wanted to hear.

_“I’m not in the mood.”_

Dante?  Not in the mood?  Nero was seriously considering calling an ambulance to Dante’s apartment - Dante was _always_ in the mood, way more than Nero was, anyways.

 _“You sure you’re okay?”_  Nero’s responding text is meant as a joke, but it probably reads as (truthful) concern.

_“I can come see you if you want, but keep it hands-off for now.”_

_Hands-off?_ Nero’s stomach sinks low, feeling like lead.  This couldn’t be happening. _“What does that mean?”_

_“Let me come over and make dinner.”_

_“That’s it?”_

_“That’s it.”_

Nero doesn’t know what to do.  What he wants, more than anything, is to get dicked down - but the more he thought about it, the less painful a sexless evening with Dante sounded.  He hated being alone, after all.

After a drawn-out argument with himself in his head, Nero decides to throw caution to the wind and just text Dante to come over _without_ the pretense of sex - Lord have mercy - and locks the screen without waiting for an answer.  He turns the ringer off, too, in an irrational attempt to get the situation out of his head.

Full of excitement, residual frustration, and lingering arousal, Nero decides to go for a run.  In any other circumstance he’d jack off, but he knows that relieving himself for the moment will only make him hornier when Dante comes around.  No, he needs to _really_ tire himself out, so much so that he won’t have any energy left to raise his flagstaff.

Since he’s resolutely avoiding his phone, Nero runs out the door without a phone to play music - just what he needs to angrily pound the soles of his sneakers into the pavement as if he’s stomping out his wandering thoughts.  

Without the distraction of music, Nero isn’t surprised to immediately have his thoughts turn to his uncle.  The thoughts are sexual, of course, but it’s easy to tamp down a boner when the burning in his lungs overpower all other feelings.

Nero isn’t aware of just how much time passes with him thinking about Dante naked, back bowed in ecstasy with his muscles rippling as he freezes in the middle of orgasm.  How blissful Dante looks once he’s collapsed against the mattress, laughing softly when it’s clear Nero wants to go for another round, spurred by youthful enthusiasm Dante tells Nero he wishes he still had.  Dante falling asleep while Nero gets ready to leave, his peaceful expression enough to distract Nero from pulling on his pants for a few minutes and make Kyrie worry with how late he arrives home.

Christ.  Somehow, he’d ran four miles without realizing, though he’d thankfully made a loop back to his house unconsciously.

Slowing to a jog, it wasn’t until he’d rounded the corner of the block that he could make out the distinct shape of a familiar beat-up motorcycle sitting on his driveway.  That could only mean the person waiting at his front door was…

“Dante!”  Nero shouted out from across the front yard, coming to a breathless stop.  He didn’t dare set foot on the grass to cross over to where Dante was, too afraid of what he’d do when Dante was within arm’s reach.

Dante looked… good.  He was wearing one of his red leather jackets, one of the more worn ones that reminded Nero of the nights they met in an unlit park, risking getting caught as they sucked each other off in the scant privacy of the bushes.

Wait.  No. He couldn’t think about that right now, or else - shit, of _course_ he had a boner.  His sweatpants did absolutely nothing to hide it, so all he could do was shift his weight to one side and act nonchalant so that Dante wouldn’t get suspicious.  And oddly enough, Nero didn’t see Dante’s gaze drop below the waist once.

Aside from that fantasy-inducing jacket, Dante was armed with… groceries.  Nero must have missed that offer, brain addled with hormones and confusion as his eyes flickered over Dante’s texts.

“You okay, Nero?  You’ve just been… standing there for a minute,” Dante said with concern as he passed his groceries off from one arm to the other.

Nero began to laugh nervously, glad that his anxious sweat was mostly masked by perspiration from his jog.  “I’m good! I’m - I’m good, I just didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“I told you I’d be here in thirty minutes.  Seriously, Nero, is everything okay?”

 _Don’t,_ Nero pleaded in his head.   _Please, don’t act like you’re worried about me._

“Yeah!  Yeah, of course.  Everything’s surprisingly okay, considering the divorce.”  Nero decides not to look at Dante’s face as he fishes his keys out of his pocket, finally mustering up the courage to jog across the lawn and unlock the front door.

“Oh, good.  I was starting to think you didn’t want me here.”  Dante’s dark chuckle is definitely masking the obvious truth of his statement, and at once Nero feels horrible for completely ignoring his phone.  

Once Nero’s inside, he pulls his tank top over his head and uses it to wipe the sweat off his chest while his back is turned to Dante.  Behind him, he hears a particularly loud _thump_ of Dante setting his bag of groceries down on the kitchen counter, but he just assumes that it’d been heavy to hold onto for that long while Dante was waiting for Nero - until he hears Dante mutter something under his breath.

_“Hands-off, idiot.”_

He has no idea how to interpret that, so Nero just tells Dante that he’ll be back after a quick shower.

Feeling sufficiently clean and exhausted once he towels off from the shower, Nero throws on a pair of shorts and another tank before returning to the living area.  Once he steps foot outside the bathroom, he’s hit with a wave of mouth-watering aromas, triggering a loud grumble from his stomach that he’s all too happy to indulge by padding off to the kitchen.

Obviously, the only person cooking could have been Dante, but Nero is still shocked when he sees Dante sauteing a pan’s worth of vegetables with expert movements.  Dante must notice him standing there slack-jawed, not even turning his attention to Nero as he shouts over the noise of the stove vent. “What’re you just standing there for?  Food’s almost ready, so take a seat at the bar.”

Nero’s still speechless, even as his legs carry him to a stool.  Satisfied with his handiwork, Dante shuts the fan and stove off, shaking the pan’s contents onto a large plate.  It’s like watching a stranger, the way Dante moves confidently in a kitchen that he doesn’t even own, giving actual attention to the way the food looks on the plate.

Once Dante slides the plate full of food in front of him, along with a fork and glass of water, Nero looks up at him with a dumbfounded expression.  

“Are you really that surprised?”  Dante raises an eyebrow, setting the pan on an unused burner to cool.  

“You always just ordered pizza whenever I came over.”

“You were never over for long enough for me to cook for you.  What, was I supposed to let you leave hungry?”

“But - you never brought food over to my moms’ place, either!”

“Trish and Lady would have killed me if I one-upped them under their roof.”

Nero shut his mouth, knowing that Dante was right.  His moms _were_ oddly competitive like that.  “But still, we’d been fucking for a year.  You’d think I would have known you could _cook_ after getting intimate with you for that long.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Is all Dante says, a hint of a smile peeking through his now overgrown fringe.  

Struck speechless again, Nero occupies his mouth with food instead of words, trying not to moan out loud when it hits his tongue.  He must let a few noises escape, judging by the way Dante lets out a soft chuckle from where he’s washing the dishes, but Nero is too engrossed in the food to care.  

In between bites, Nero begins to actually think about how weird this is - was there really not a single instance where he’d stayed over at Dante’s place long enough to eat an actual meal with his uncle?

His thoughts are only filled with sex, sex, and more sex, so he figures that no, there really hadn’t been any time to dedicate to eating together over the months they’d known each other.

A strange sense of guilt settled on his shoulders.  At first, Nero thinks he must have eaten too much - but no, the sudden weight he felt wasn’t anything physical.  He jerks his head up when he hears the water shut off, watching Dante’s hands intently as he wipes them off on a dishtowel.

Dante comes over to lean across the counter that separated them, putting his weight on his crossed arms as he lazily tilts his head at Nero.  “So? What’s your review?”

“I-It was great,” Nero stammers.  “Four stars.”

“Only four?”  Dante’s expression turns shocked, then mischievous, eyes raised to Nero’s face from where his head is resting in his arms.  “What was lacking?”

“The service could be better,” Nero laughs, and though he meant for it to sound sexual, his words are tinged with longing, as if he wished Dante had sat right next to him while he ate.

“How’s this for service?” Dante murmurs, pushing off the counter with one hand and reaching out to grab Nero’s chin in the other, pulling them together until their lips met in a soft, fleeting kiss.

Dante pulls back, and his expression screams that he regrets the kiss.  And though Nero is just as shocked, he grabs Dante by the wrist and tries to pull him in for one more, almost vaulting across the counter so he can straddle Dante like he so dearly wishes he could.

But Dante stops him with a hand on his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing.  “One kiss, Nero,” he says, shaking his head. “That’s all. Keep it hands-off, okay?”

Hands-off.   _Hands-off._ Like that meant anything to Nero.  He’d just pull at Dante’s wrist a little harder, giving him a simple nudge to catapult them off the edge past the point of no return.

However, Dante wouldn’t budge.  “I mean it, Nero.”

Nero feels something shatter behind his sternum.  “What are you, old man? A nun?”

He doesn’t mean it.  He doesn’t mean to sound so bitter, so desperate for physical affection that he’d fight for it.  But he’s sure that’s what it looks like to Dante.

“I said I’d come over and make you dinner, so I did.  I wanted to check on you, too, just in case the divorce stuff was wearing you down.”

“You kidding me?”  Nero laughs, and it’s just a _bit_ too forced.  “The divorce was the best thing to happen to me in years.  Kyrie and I are _friends_ again.”  Somehow, it’s a relief to be completely open with Dante, just this once.

Dante seems to notice it too, so he gently pulls away and smiles at Nero, rattling the pieces of his shattered patience against his ribcage in a way that makes his stomach flutter.  

“Call me if you ever want me to cook for you again, okay?  But for that reason only,” Dante clarifies, hoisting his jacket back over his shoulders and sending Nero down a path of dirty thoughts that were distracting enough to prevent Nero from even saying goodbye as Dante left through the front door.

He wasn’t going to call.  Not if every meeting between them from now on was going to be like this, with Dante coming over for his own selfish reasons without even giving Nero anything more in return than a plate of stir-fry and a _single_ kiss.

But one kiss could easily turn into two.  Two into three, into who knows what else - which is what Nero told himself when he found himself seized by the urge to call Dante three days later, staring into his empty fridge like it owed him money.

Dante sounded genuinely surprised to hear Nero calling, as if he didn’t expect to ever hear back from him again.  That pissed Nero the fuck off, so he put on the most sickly-sweet voice he could muster and exaggerated the want in his voice (that wasn’t fake, per se) as he asked Dante to come over in a voice that sounded exactly like a woman in need of a bodice-ripping.

All Nero heard from Dante was a deep chuckle that absolutely did _not_ turn him on and a “hope you like steak and wine, kid” before the line went dead.

Who the fuck didn’t like steak and wine?

Jackass.

This time around, Nero was actually home to let Dante in, taking Dante’s bag of groceries out of his arms. This only prompted a snarky comment about chivalry not being dead or some stupid shit like that before Nero impatiently pulled Dante inside.  If Dante wasn’t gonna give him dick, he could at least have the decency to hurry the food along.

Nero made sure to stick around this time, watching Dante’s every move carefully.  “You sure know how to make a guy feel self-conscious,” Dante laughed, throwing the knife in the air so that it flipped a few times before he was able to catch it.  “Good thing I perform well under pressure.” With a wink, a chop, and a flip of his hair, Dante quickly diced a few onions in a way that clearly betrayed the fact he was showing off.  Even knowing this, Nero couldn’t help but be impressed.

Dinner was far less eventful than Dante’s meal prep, but the wine and food had settled into his stomach, making Nero feel warm, sleepy, and in need of human contact.  He’d hobbled off to the bathroom while Dante took a seat on his couch, having brought over some light reading for whatever reason instead of fucking off right after dinner like last time.

When Nero returned, his tipsy brain thought that it’d be a good idea for Nero to plonk himself down on the couch next to Dante and lean on the older man, which drew a noise of surprise out from his chest.

“I told you, no sex,” Dante sighed, though he didn’t stop himself from bringing a hand up to ruffle Nero’s hair.  

“‘m not horny,” Nero grumbled, turning his head so that his face was smushed into Dante’s shoulder.

“You’re awfully touchy, though, aren’t you.”  Dante finally puts that stupid book down, but instead of giving Nero his full attention, he starts pushing him away.  Letting out a whine of protest, Nero surges up so that he’s looming above Dante, bracing his weight against the back of the couch.

“Kiss.”

“What?”

“I want a kiss.  You gave me one last time.”

Dante’s expression froze as he tried to remember the fact that yes, they did kiss, and _yes,_ it was Dante who’d initiated it.  “Awfully good memory for a drunk brat,” he mumbles, though he offers no protest when Nero closes the distance between them.  

When Dante pulls back, Nero chases him, slightly parting his red, kiss-stained lips for another go.  However, Dante stops him with a hand over his mouth.

“One kiss, Nero,” he murmurs, though even in his drunk state Nero can hear the restraint in Dante’s own voice.  Rolling his eyes, Nero rolls off of Dante and flops down on his back, forcefully burrowing his head into the junction of Dante’s hip and thigh.

Dante only lets out an exasperated, fond chuckle.  “What are you doing?” he laughs, running his fingers through Nero’s hair.

“Shut up, old man.”  Nero has his arms crossed and is facing away from Dante, blush hidden by the flush the wine spreads across his face.  “I’m going to sleep.”

“At least move to the bed.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because then you’ll leave,” Nero mumbles softly before drifting off, and Dante’s hand freezes mid-stroke.  

Luckily, Nero’s not awake to see how hard Dante is blushing, but even without witnesses, Dante is so disgustingly happy and _enamored_ that he has to hide his face behind his palm, static coming up to his ears like his brain is shorting out.

It isn’t long before Dante falls asleep himself, head painfully lolling back against the back of the couch and his fingers still tangled in Nero’s hair.  

Nero is the first to wake.

His head is throbbing - wine always did give him a hell of a hangover - and he wonders what the hell is so uncomfortable that’s putting a massive crick in his neck as he sluggishly pushes himself up onto his seat.  He yawns, surprised by the fact that he got a rare good night’s sleep despite how uncomfortable his pillow was, and promptly freezes when he hears a disembodied yawn from behind him.

Oh, fuck.  Dante spent the night.

What did that mean?  Nero tried not to think too hard about it - but everything, including the home-cooked meals, the weird domestic vibe that they had going between them, the lack of sex - everything was pointing to something romantic.  Something _more_ than just sex friends.  The worst part was, Nero didn’t think he’d complain if things turned out that way.

But Nero refused to prove Kyrie right.  So he jumped up from the couch and ran to the privacy of his bathroom, needing to wash off the confusion and shame while he avoided Dante for a good twenty minutes.

The waste of water was worth it, seeing as how Dante was gone by the time Nero finally got out of the bathroom.

For the next few hours, Nero tries to take his mind off of things - his newfound revelations, and the way he’d acted when he was drunk last night, which was coming back to him in bits and pieces - by rabidly cleaning every inch of the main floor.  In a way, it felt like he was trying to scrub his feelings for Dante out of his living space.

Nero was rounding the couch when a sudden intrusive thought struck him.  If Dante had been sitting on that couch for so long, would it still smell like him?  Hesitantly, Nero picked up the couch cushion and pressed his face into it, taking a big whiff - _oh._ He’d never admit that he just stands there for a few more minutes breathing in Dante’s scent, surrounded by the feeling of _home_ and _safety_ in a way that he hadn’t felt since they’d fucked on the regular.

Pathetically, Nero couldn’t bring himself to spray Dante’s scent off the couch.  Resigned to his self-acknowledged masochism, he leaves the couch as it is.

When Nero goes to check his phone, he sees a few new texts from Dante.  Trying to suppress the shiver that runs down his spine, he opens them and reads:

 _“You feeling okay?  You always have bad hangovers after your wine binges.”_ _  
_ _“I can come over and bring some aspirin.”_

And, sent an hour after those texts:

_“Sorry I left while you were in the bathroom.  I got called in for work.”_

Nero just rolls his eyes.  

 _“You don’t have to act like you’re worried about me.”_ _  
_ _“I don’t know what you’re trying to play at, but I don’t need your pity.”_

Maybe the texts were harsher than they had to be - Nero was all-around embarrassed at having done something as creepy as smash his face into the couch to see if it smelled like Dante, and plus… he was suspicious.  First, Dante didn’t want to fuck. Then, he keeps acting _nice,_ like he’s trying to make up for something, like, say… abandoning him when he was a kid.

Yeah.  Even Dante’s cock isn’t big enough to fill that hole in his heart.

And it’s a pretty _big_ cock.

Huge, even.

Nero spends a few minutes salivating over the memory of Dante’s dick, stopping only when he’s interrupted by his phone vibrating with new incoming texts.

 _“It’s not pity, Nero.”_ _  
_ _“You really don’t know why I’m worried about you?”_

Fuck Nero if he knew what the hell was going through Dante’s head.  He was nearly angry enough to just turn off his phone and leave Dante on read for the next few days, but his headache _was_ getting worse, and he didn’t want to ride it out alone…

_“Shut up and bring over a bottle of aspirin.”_

Pride?  What Pride?  Nero set his phone down and laid down on the couch with his eyes closed, turning so that his face was pressed into Dante’s seat from the night before.

That night goes just like the last two.  Dante makes Nero dinner, nurses him back to health, and sets himself down to read on the couch without further attention paid to Nero, forcing Nero to instigate anything he wanted to do, be it their _one_ kiss or something as innocuous as a simple hug.

It’s fucking _embarrassing,_ but Nero falls for it every.  Goddamn. Time.

That day, Nero’s stone-cold sober when he presses against Dante’s side and demands to know what’s so interesting about the book that Dante thinks that it’s okay to prioritize it over him.

The next, Nero gets bolder, slapping Dante’s book out of his hand as he’s reading it and silencing his shout of protest with a kiss.  Dante has to pull back midway through with how hard he’s laughing, and Nero uses that opportunity to steal a second kiss. When Dante pushes him away admonishingly, Nero just justifies his action by petulantly explaining that Dante had cut their one kiss short.

The day after that, he doesn’t get a kiss.  That’s how Nero learns not to test his luck.

After a while, their routine feels just like how it’d been when they were sleeping together - only this time, _sleeping_ together was really all they were doing.

What’s more, Nero’s basically stopped sleeping in his bed.  Every night Dante’s over, Nero falls asleep with his head or his legs in his lap, and every morning, Dante leaves without a word.

Nero feels used, even though he’s getting food and physical “affection” out of their arrangement.  Is… is this what it felt like when he would leave Dante’s place in the morning without even saying goodbye?  Nero feels his heart squeeze in his chest.

It’s on the tenth visit that Nero’s blissful, if a bit strange, domestic life with Dante gets interrupted.

He’s in the middle of harassing Dante for a kiss when his phone rings with Kyrie’s personalized ringtone.  At once he freezes, head slowly turning towards the phone as his grip on Dante’s jacket loosens.

Nero shuffles off of Dante’s lap, where he’d been straddling him, and takes the call in his bedroom.  “Kyrie?” He greets tentatively, wondering why Kyrie was calling him out of the blue.

“Nero!”  Her cheerful voice is always refreshing to hear, but Nero can’t help be nervous.  He knows there’s only one real reason she’d be calling instead of texting, so he puts her on speaker and braces himself as he sits himself down on the edge of his mattress.  “How have you been?”

“I’ve been… good.”  Nero’s surprised to find that it’s not a lie.  Spending so much time with Dante had somehow made him… happy.

“That’s wonderful to hear, Nero.  Did Dante finally come around?” Nero can hear the laughter in her voice, and it pains him that she’s right.

“I’m not answering that,” Nero scoffs.  “So, what’s up?”

Kyrie clears her throat, pausing for a second before she gets serious.  “My divorce lawyer wants to set up a meeting. I’m sorry that the first time I call after seeing you last has to be about something so joyless, but-”

“No, it’s okay.  I’m free next week, does that work for you?”

Kyrie sighs in relief, her worry that Nero wouldn’t be cooperative unfounded.  “I think it does. See you then?”

Nero’s about to reply when he hears rusting on the other end, as if Kyrie dropped the phone.  However, it’s clear that someone stole the phone from Kyrie when Nero hears “Lighten up, jackass!  Ain’t you getting that USDA Prime, grade-A certified _beef-”_

Sounds of a short struggle pass before Kyrie speaks again.  “Nico! That’s hardly- I’m sorry about that, Nero, she just stole the phone from me-”

He hears Nico shout in the background. _“I’m fuckin’ right, babe!”_

Nero almost goes into shock when Kyrie responds, _“Dante’s forcing him to go vegan right now, Nico!”_ In a way that Nero thinks wasn’t meant for him to hear.

“I’m hanging up now,” Nero sighs.  “Thanks, Kyrie.”

Kyrie’s laughing when she says goodbye, obviously distracted by Nico.  “I miss you, Nero! Wait, Nico, don’t do that when I’m on the phone-”

Thankfully, Nero doesn’t have to find out what Kyrie’s talking about when he hangs up.

When Nero returns to the living room, Dante shifts quickly around in his seat as if he’d been looking at the bedroom door before Nero walked in.  Not that Nero notices. He’s too busy thinking about what to do if Kyrie brings Nico to the negotiation.

“Something wrong?” Dante coughs, putting his book down and patting the seat next to him.  Nero automatically goes to sit next to Dante like a whipped little puppy, sitting straight in his seat without touching Dante at all.  

“Kyrie wants to meet next week to go over the divorce papers.”

Dante sucks in a breath, and Nero doesn’t dare to take a peek at the look on his face - but if Nero had, he’d see the barely-suppressed smile on Dante’s face.  “That’s rough, kid.” He gathers Nero into his arms, careful not to let him see his expression.

At once, Nero feels incredibly warm from the inside out, and he melts into Dante’s embrace.  “I know it’s weird to feel down about it, but I really did like having an excuse to see Kyrie every day.  But it’s for the best, I guess.”

Splaying his hand across Nero’s back, Dante begins to rub circles through his shirt.  Though it feels like he’s being babied, Nero doesn’t dare complain - it feels far too good to let pride get in the way.

“Do you want me to make something special that day?”

Nero shakes his head, scooting even closer to Dante so that his legs are wrapped around his middle.  “Actually, I - I… Can you go with me?”

Dante pauses, slightly taken aback.  “To the legal stuff? You sure about that?”

“Nico’s definitely gonna be there.  I don’t just wanna show up alone, you know?  And you’re kind of the only person I can ask.”

“...Alright.”  Dante’s answer is slow, but only because he’s trying to suppress excitement.  “Anything you want.”

“Anything but sex, right?”  Nero laughs, though it’s light in tone.  “Or more than one kiss.”

Laughing along with him, Dante says, “Sorry, kid.  You sound like you got blue balls - haven’t gone out for any one-night stands since the divorce?”

Nero freezes, suddenly scrambling out of Dante’s hold.  Dante was right, Nero realized. He hadn’t had sex in almost a month, despite being perpetually horny - he hadn’t even kissed anyone other than Dante.  Was it possible that… that Dante was all he needed? Sex or no sex, that just his presence was satisfying enough?

...Hell no.  Nero wanted to _fuck._ But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this about anyone else, because he’d never had these feelings before.

Not that he’d ever tell Dante.

Coming back to himself, he realized that he was acting strangely and straightened himself out, sitting up and pretending like he hadn’t just had a small, miniscule freak out right there in front of Dante.

“I’ve fucked.  I had sex… last week,” Nero said, clearing his throat, obviously lying by the way he refused to meet Dante’s gaze.

Dante just quirks his lips up in a smile, in no way believing Nero’s lie.  He decides to humor him, though, leaning in to give Nero his one kiss for the day.  When he breaks the kiss, Dante slides a hand under Nero’s chin and holds himself an inch away, practically whispering in a deep, rumbling murmur.  “Glad to see you’re keeping yourself busy. You don’t need me here then, do you?”

“No!” Nero protests _far_ too quickly, planting his hands on Dante’s shoulders with his eyes blown wide open.  “Uh… I mean, no, it’s fine. Stay. I asked you to go to the meeting with the lawyers anyway, the least I could do is let you stay over.”

“The least you could do, huh?” Dante chuckles, placing his hands on Nero’s wrists before bringing his face close.  Nero expects Dante to pull back as if he’s getting up from the couch, but Dante keeps getting closer, and closer, and _closer_ until finally their lips are pressed together for the second time that day, sliding in sync with Dante’s tongue slipping along the length of Nero’s.  

Nero’s practically shell-shocked, but his hands grab Dante’s shoulders tight the more he loses himself in the kiss.  They slide up Dante’s neck and pull them closer together, and Nero lets his eyes close, tilting his head to give Dante better access.

Shamelessly, he lets out a soft moan, the wet sound of their lips moving against each other leaving Nero breathless and with a sizeable bulge in his jeans.  They’re close enough that Dante can feel it, and for all of Dante’s recent restraint, he’s sporting an erection, too, unable to resist pushing his hips forwards so they both cry out in pleasure.

As soon as that happens, though, Dante lets out a long, suffering breath and pushes Nero away, shuffling back so that their hips are no longer in contact.  

“What the hell?” Nero huffs, chest heaving and hand coming up to press his fingers against his swollen lips.  

“N-no,” Dante shudders, leaping up from the couch and grabbing his book on his way to the front door.  “Look, I’ll see you next week, just text me when you need me at the meeting. I’ll, ah, be out of town for the next few days.  I won’t be able to make it, but I put some leftovers in the fridge.”

“I don’t want fucking _leftovers,”_ Nero hisses, unsubtly pressing the heel of his palm against the straining tent he was sporting.

Dante sighed, resolutely trying (but failing) to avoid watching Nero practically jack off right in front of him.  “Just… don’t call unless it’s an emergency, alright?”

Nero doesn’t have time to respond, watching speechlessly as Dante turns and slips out the door.

Of course Dante would blue ball him after _initiating_ the fucking kiss.  In his anger, Nero kicked the couch and painfully readjusted his jeans to fit around his boner, about to stomp off to his room when something caught his eye.

Dante’s jacket, left hanging over one of the stools at the breakfast bar.

Fuck it.  If Dante wasn’t going to fuck him, Nero could do the next best thing.  After grabbing it on the way, he locks the door behind him - force of habit - and throws his pants off, dropping into bed with Dante’s jacket held close to his face.  

Pressing the collar against his nose and mouth, Nero reaches down and strokes himself through his briefs, teasing himself at the slowly-forming wet spot near the crown as he squeezes the shaft.  He’s so excited that he’s throbbing, dick straining against the fabric so hard that it almost pulls the waistband of his boxers away from his hips.

Taking another deep breath, he teases his erection out from the opening at the front of his underwear, moaning as he gets a good hit of Dante’s scent just as his thumb catches the wetness gathering at his slit.  Relentlessly, he begins to swipe his thumb across the tip, precum allowing it to glide across his sensitive flesh.

His soft moans turn into animalistic grunts the more he gets into it, hips pistoning forwards into his fist at a feverish pace as he continues to fill his senses with Dante.  He can smell his own scent begin to mingle with the one clinging to the leather, and he twitches in his grip at his own imagination summoning an image of them together, Nero fucking Dante as he presses his face into the older man’s neck.  

He’s about to cum, and he gets the sudden urge to let his release spill at least partially onto the jacket.  On one hand, it was probably crazy expensive, but on the other… Nero wanted to mark it like a wolf marking its territory, leaving his scent trapped in the material that Dante would eventually have to put back on.

He really shouldn’t.

But he wanted to.

...But he really, _really_ shouldn’t.

Compromising, Nero stuffs a small portion of leather into his mouth and clamps his jaw down as he cums, grunting with every jet of release that sprays into his hand.  

Flopping onto his back as he comes down from orgasm, Nero uses his clean hand to text Dante.   _“You left your jacket at my place,”_ he sends, almost spitefully.  He lets the phone drop onto his chest and just stares at the ceiling for a few moments, trying to wrap his head around how fucking weird he’d been acting lately.

When he comes back from the bathroom, he sees that Dante sent a text back.

 _“Don’t you dare let anything happen to it,”_ Dante responds jokingly, and Nero has the sudden urge to tell Dante that he came on his jacket.  

_“Wouldn’t dream of it, old man.”_

For now, it’d be his own little secret.

When divorce negotiation day rolls around, Nero decides to show up in proper attire - a button-down dress shirt with a sensible blue tie tucked into a pair of gray slacks - though the ensemble is interrupted by the sudden red of the leather jacket - _Dante’s_ leather jacket - that Nero decided to wear to the meeting.

He’s already a little late to the lawyer’s office, but he rolls up at the same time Dante does, looking incredibly out of place on his motorcycle while wearing a full suit.  It’s cut so well that it makes Nero salivate. He wants to drag Dante into a bathroom stall and drag the zipper of his slacks down with his teeth, exposing him without taking off a shred of clothing.  He’d blow him and swallow everything so they wouldn’t leave a mess, walking into the conference room with a smile and suspiciously disheveled hair…

Oh, shit, Dante’s giving him a weird look.  Nero has to pretend like he’s _not_ fantasizing about him and straightens the leather jacket, walking up to his uncle with a shaky grin.

“You look kinda tacky, kid,” Dante chuckles, grabbing the edge of a jacket flap and running his hands down the zipper, regarding Nero through half-lidded eyes.

Seemed like Nero wasn’t the only one having fantasies, regardless of what teasing words came out of Dante’s mouth.

“And you look like a pornstar,” Nero scoffs, grabbing Dante’s tie as if he’s about to pull him in for a rough kiss.  All he does, however, is feel the silky material and smile vaguely at his uncle, pressing the tip of the tie to his lips before letting it fall and walking away.

Despite all the flirting, they make sure to keep a good foot away from each other as they walk into the office building, Nero letting Dante squint at the building map before calling the elevator down to the ground floor.

Nero hates this place.  It’s too cold, too open, too minimalistic, and it makes him feel like someone could come out and attack him from all sides.  He senses Dante is similarly uncomfortable by the way he makes sure to walk closely behind Nero instead of next to him, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Kyrie and Nico are already sitting at the head of the conference table when the walk in, Nico looking spectacularly pissed.  “‘Bout time you showed up, freak,” she huffs, only placated by Kyrie’s gentle touch to her elbow.

“Nice to see you too, Nico,” Nero sighs, tugging on Dante’s cuff to get him to follow Nero to the other side of the table.  They sit next to each other and Nero scoots his chair closer to Dante’s, which Dante pretends not to notice.

“Who’s this?” The lawyer hesitantly asks, eyeing Dante with a look of suspicion.

Kyrie and Nico, who have only just now noticed that Dante was present, look at each other for a moment before giggling, drawing more confusion out of the lawyer.  “He’s Nero’s uncle,” Kyrie finally says, waving her hand dismissively. “He’s just here so Nero doesn’t feel outnumbered, I’m assuming?”

Nero nods, stealing a glance at Dante, who’s - oh, he’s yawning.  It… actually looks _fake_ , like Dante is trying to pretend like he doesn’t want to be there - but the thigh that’s suddenly pressed against Nero’s feels like a reassurance, grounding Nero, tells Nero that Dante’s is actually here because he wanted to be here.  That he wasn’t coerced out of some feeling of obligation.

The negotiations go off without a hitch, Nico only making a few snide or lewd comments instead of her usual dozens.  Whenever Nero feels the anxiety of separation wash over him, he knows his leg starts to bounce - feeling this, Dante rests a hand on Nero’s knee while acting like he’s bored out of his mind on the surface.

The more Dante acts like he cares about Nero, the more flustered Nero becomes, a blush steadily rising up his neck every time Dante squeezes his knee.  Flashes of his earlier fantasy of dragging Dante off to the bathrooms keep appearing in his head, and Dante’s hand so close to his crotch isn’t helping things _one bit,_ but the proceedings are mostly finished when it gets too much for Nero to bear.

Sure, he has to pretend like he got too hot during the meeting and take his jacket off so he can hide his boner when they all rise from their seats, but hey - at least he has the jacket to hide it with.  While Dante and Kyrie seem none the wiser, Nico’s gaze keeps flickering down to the leather jacket in a way that screams that she knows _exactly_ what’s happening and is dying to say something.  Nero has no doubt that the only reason she doesn’t point at his dick and scream _“BONER!”_ is because Kyrie would scold her if she did that in front of their lawyer.

When everything is said and done with the four of them standing outside, Nero feels like a weight’s been lifted from his shoulders.  

“No more tax benefits, huh?” Nero says lightheartedly, shrugging the jacket back over his shoulders now that his boner’s subsided.  

“Speak for yourself,” Nico scoffs, twining her and Kyrie’s arms together.  “We’re getting married in May. And I already told Kyrie, there ain’t no way she’s making you her-”

“Would you be the maid of honor, Nero?” Kyrie blurts out, holding out her hand, which Nero immediately takes.  He doesn’t notice the way both Nico and Dante look down at their clasped hands with derision, eyes narrowing.

“Maid of honor?” Nero laughs, squeezing Kyrie’s hand tight.  “Come on, at least let me be the best man.”

“Debatable.”  Huffing, Nico tosses her hair over her shoulder.  

Kyrie starts to pout, but it doesn’t look like anything serious.  “Come on, Nico, we talked about this-”

“He’ll be your maid of honor,” Dante says, laughing as he throws an arm over Nero’s shoulders.  “As long as you let me come along as his plus one-”

Both Nero and Kyrie cringe at the same time, hastily warning Dante away from the idea.  

“ _Hell_ no, Lady and Trish are gonna be there and they’ll break all the bones in your body if they see you kiss me-”

“We’re inviting the whole family, but I think it’s for the best if you bring your own plus one as a diversion-”

Dante and Nico interrupt the both of them with a bout of raucous laughter.  “I’m joking, you two,” Dante sighs, ruffling Nero’s hair before he pulls away completely.  “Now, I gotta go. It’s getting late and I wanted to get a head start on dinner.”

Nero follows behind Dante with a quick wave to both girls, jogging along like a dog following its owner.  They stop at Dante’s bike, and for some reason, it looks like Dante’s about to drive off alone without a word to Nero.

Putting a hand on Dante’s wrist, Nero stops him before he can throw his helmet on.  “Come over.”

“Why should I?” Dante asks, though he doesn’t sound bitter.  It’s just a genuine question, which is even weirder. It almost sounds like Dante’s testing him, trying to see if he answers the question correctly.

“I asked you to come with me to this boring thing, the least I could do is… order takeout for the both of us.”  It’s a split-second decision, Nero desperately trying to find a way to make sure Dante doesn’t leave.

Dante pauses, smiling kindly.  “Alright. I’ll meet you at yours.  Race you,” he laughs, pulling his helmet on and kicking the stand out from under his bike before starting the engine.  

Nero stands there for a moment before sprinting off to his car, backing out of his parking spot haphazardly as he watches Dante peel out into the street.

Unsurprisingly, Dante’s waiting for Nero in his driveway, leaning against his hog and smirking like the devil when Nero emerges from his car.

“You didn’t win,” Nero petulantly huffed, stomping to his front door and unlocking it, almost shutting it before Dante can get a foot in the door.

“Don’t be petty!” Dante exclaims.  “I won fair and square.”

“Yeah?  You want a fuckin’ prize, asshole?”  The vitriol from his words alone are undercut by the uncontrollable grin spreading across Nero’s face.  He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead opting to pull Dante in by the tie and kick his door closed.

They’re face to face, mere inches apart from each other as they stand there in the middle of Nero’s foyer, breathing into each other’s space.  It’s harder _not_ to kiss than it is to do nothing, their lips meeting in a feverish press, Nero fisting his hand in Dante’s hair.

It’s short, but it still leaves them both breathless.  “I just wanted to say thank you,” Nero breathes when he pulls away, still holding their faces close enough together to touch.  “For everything you did today. For… for calming me down when I got nervous.”

Dante averts his gaze but doesn’t pull away.  “I wanted to be there, too. I always want to be there for you, in ways I couldn’t when I was a coward and abandoned you-”

“Don’t bring that up,” Nero sighs, resting his forehead against Dante’s.  “I just… somehow, you make me happier when you’re around.”

Dante doesn’t say anything, but he stops moving as if he’s holding his breath.

Nero pulls back, holding onto Dante by the shoulders.  “I think what I’m trying to say is - Dante, I think I love you.”

Dante releases that breath, sagging as he surges forwards to take Nero into his arms.

Nero’s slightly taken aback.  “You’re not mad?”

Dante laughs, incredulous and bubbly.  “How could I be _mad,_ kid?  What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past month?”

Still confused, Nero turns his head so that his lips are aligned with Dante’s ear.  “Enlighten me.”

“I was sick of feeling used, Nero.  That’s why I stopped fucking you, but I couldn’t stay completely away.  So I came over with food, just so I could satisfy at least one of your appetites.”

Used?  Dante felt _used?_ “When the hell did I ever use you?”

“We always had to have sex when we saw each other, Nero.  It was fun the first few times, but when you came crying to me about Kyrie and demanded that I fuck you, I think that was the last straw.  Believe it or not,” Dante sighs, carding a hand through his hair, “I love you too, Nero. I’ve been in love with you since your wedding day.”

“Fuck off.  There’s no way,” Nero mumbles, blushing to the tips of his ears.

“You saw me looking at you during your vows, didn’t you?  The way you were staring back at me, I thought we were on the same page.  But I guess we weren’t by the way you ghosted me after your honeymoon. I deserved it, though, after what I did to you.”

They lapse into silence, Nero trying to process everything he’d just been told.  “So… if that’s why you wouldn’t have sex with me… can we finally do it now?”

Letting out an exasperated chuckle, Dante brings Nero in for a second kiss.  “This time I won’t leave you with blue balls,” Dante murmurs, hiking Nero’s legs up around his waist as he initiates a third kiss.

The trek to Nero’s bed is slow, even further prolonged by the fact that Dante can’t for the life of him stop kissing Nero - like the floodgates have opened after such a long drought.

Nero kisses back hungrily, pressing Dante’s face together in his hands, loathe to let go when Dante has to lower them both to the mattress.  “I’ve never waited this long to have sex,” Nero pants, ripping the button of his slacks off and kicking them away, rubbing his straining erection against Dante’s chest.

Dante, for his part, is working his way down Nero’s body, licking every dip and valley of muscle just to watch Nero twitch.  Finally, he begins to mouth against Nero’s cock wetly through the fabric, making Nero bow his back in ecstasy from how long he’d had to wait for this sensation.

Nero turns his head to the side, burying his nose in the collar of Dante’s jacket and sniffs audibly, breathing in the heady scent of Dante and Nero mixed together.  His cock gives a formidable twitch, and Nero has to stuff the sleeve of Dante’s jacket in his mouth to stop himself from crying out shamelessly.

When Dante notices this, he stops giving attention to Nero’s dick and raises his head, smirking and pinching the sensitive skin at the inside of Nero’s thigh.  “I was wondering why you wore my jacket to the meeting today. What, did you jack off with it?”

Nero’s moan and the way his cock jumps is telling enough.  “You really have it bad, don’t you,” Dante groans, pulling Nero’s boxer briefs down to his ankles in one fell swoop and licking the palm of his hand so he can start stroking Nero’s shaft.

Before Nero can let out a protest, Dante dips down and takes one of Nero’s nipples into his mouth, rolling the nub between his tongue and his teeth before biting down _hard._ Nero’s resulting gasp draws a dark chuckle out of Dante, and he keeps working at it until Nero’s a panting, writhing mess underneath him.

“Wait, Dante,” he gasps, pressing a hand to Dante’s forehead, “Too - it’s too much, I want… I want…”

Dante raises his head inquisitively, pressing a kiss to Nero’s collarbone.  “What do you want, baby?”

“I want you to take your time with it, it can’t be like any old hookup, I just - fuck me like we’re in love, Dante.”  

Shuddering, Dante slowly pushes himself up, shrugging out of his suit jacket and tugging his tie loose as he tries not to cum from Nero’s simple request.  “You really know how to push my buttons,” he murmurs dangerously, deft fingers moving down to undo the buttons of his shirt.

Until Nero’s hand shoots out and stops him.  

“Leave it on,” he sighs, pulling Dante’s hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.  “You look really good in it. I never see you this dressed up.”

The compliment is so earnest that it makes Dante’s heart ache, and he can’t stop himself from tilting his head to the side so he can kiss Nero as deeply as he can.

“Anything,” Dante breathes, though he does have to take off his belt if he ever wants to fuck Nero.  

Dante slips a few fingers inside Nero in an attempt to work the both of them up, but with how far along Nero is, Dante has to take his time, stroking every inch of Nero’s walls and avoiding his prostate to open him up.  Lube slicks Nero up both inside and out, and Dante is so hard that he thinks he’s lightheaded, all his fantasies coming true at once.

“Dante.”  Nero commands his attention, and for once he’s the one who has Dante wrapped around his finger.  “I need you inside me,” he begs, pulling Dante’s dick out from its confines and giving it a few good testing strokes.

“Baby, are you sure you’re-”

“I’m fucking sure,” Nero moans impatiently, and the way that he’s tightening around Dante’s fingers is as good an indication as any that it’s time to move this along.

Harder than hell and dripping wet, it’s almost _easy_ for Dante to guide himself in, sliding inch by torturous inch as Nero cries out in pleasure.   _“Fuck,”_ Nero hisses, “I feel so fucking _full.”_

Bottoming out, Dante grinds his hips into Nero’s to see how he was doing.  The shameless moans he received in return told him that he could start moving in and out of Nero, pulling out made exponentially more difficult by the way Nero’s hole refused to let him go.  

Dante doubles over and licks at Nero’s nipple, watching Nero’s face for any sign of discomfort.  Nero, on the other hand, looks almost delirious, holding onto Dante for dear life. He throws his head back like he’s been shocked when Dante’s tongue flicks across his nipple, keening loudly and moaning, “Do that again, Dante,” in a hushed whisper.

And he does.  After playing with Nero’s sensitive chest for a while, Dante replaces his tongue with a thumb because he wants nothing more in this world than to kiss Nero, to tell him that he’s _everything_ to him.

So he does just that, steadily pushing his cock in and out of Nero in an unhurried pace as he kisses him hungrily.  Every time he comes up for air, he shifts his head so that his lips graze against Nero’s earlobe, muttering words of encouragement into Nero’s ear.

“You’re taking me so well,” he pants, slamming his hips forwards in a brief moment of lost control, causing Nero to cry out.  “Squeezing me like you want me here inside you forever, moaning like you’ve never felt this good in your life.”

Unexpectedly, Nero takes his hands away from Dante’s back so that he can hold Dante’s hand, intertwining their fingers in a motion that’s almost _too_ intimate for Dante to handle.

“I’ve - I’ve never felt like this,” Nero gasps, pushing his hips up to meet Dante’s thrusts.  “You make me feel so good, I don’t know what to do when you’re not here, and I - and I…”

“You what, baby?” Dante kisses the shell of Nero’s ear, already feeling like he’s close to orgasm.  

“I - _fuck,_ Dante, I… _I love you so much!”_  Without warning, Nero clenches down _hard_ around Dante and cums, painting both their stomachs white as his cock throbs and twitches.  Dante has no choice but to follow Nero over that edge, crying out helplessly as he spills inside Nero so profusely that his cum starts to flow back out of his hole.

Doubling over, Dante braces himself over Nero’s face, pressing lazy kisses to his lips, cheeks, and nose as he rides out the rest of his orgasm inside of Nero.  Basking in the afterglow, Nero returns those kisses, practically mewling as he grips Dante’s hands tight.

“You love me, huh?” Dante laughs, rubbing his cheek against Nero’s.  “That’s pretty gay, baby.”

Nero lets out a laugh, finally letting go of Dante to slap a hand against Dante’s waist.  “Shut the fuck up, at least I’ve been married to a woman before.”

“The only reason  _ I  _ haven’t is because I’ve been a little hung up on someone else,” Dante murmurs, brushing Nero’s hair away from his face with his newly-freed hand and bringing him in for one more kiss.

Nero wordlessly returns the kiss, smirking in a way that worries Dante.  “Oh, I know. You’ve wanted to marry Lady for a long time, haven’t you? What makes you think you’re good enough for my mom?”

Dante flounders for a few seconds before joining Nero in raucous peals of laughter, hugging him to his chest and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> pLEASE... FOLLOW ME IM BEGGING YOU... [@ifrit_inferno](https://twitter.com/ifrit_inferno)


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